


To Make A Monster

by NebulousFrog



Category: Shazam! (2019)
Genre: Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Child Abuse, Cycles of abuse, Gen, Homophobia, Period-Typical Homophobia, Re-Victimization, THIS IS A VERY CHEERFUL FIC AS YOU CAN TELL :U
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulousFrog/pseuds/NebulousFrog
Summary: [REUPLOAD] Thaddeus Sivana first realized something was wrong when he was around 5.His father had a birthday. His brother had a birthday. His new school friends had birthdays.But he didn’t. His father had always told him that as long as his short, primitive memory could remember. Yet as invitations to birthday parties came to him (he never was allowed to go), the mystery bothered him. He was a smart kid, even at that age. Why didn’t he have a birthday?(OR: death by a thousand cuts. How Dr. Sivana eventually fell down a path dark enough to try to drown a literal child, superhero or not.)





	1. Birthdays

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the reupload. I'm outrageously, skin-crawlingly insecure about posting writing publicly, so TBH I panicked and deleted the first upload >_> This isn't finished, but I've gone ahead and uploaded all the chapters I have. I'd ideally like to write at least five more scenarios, tracing up to the moment Dr. Sivana is defeated in the movie. WE'LL SEE. 
> 
> I'll love and cherish any and all feedback - even if it's "NOPE, TOO DARK, I'M TAPPING OUT." (Accordingly, please check the tags.)

Thaddeus Sivana first realized something was wrong when he was around 5. 

 

His father had a birthday. His brother had a birthday. His new school friends had birthdays. 

 

But he didn’t. His father had always told him that as long as his short, primitive memory could remember. Yet as invitations to birthday parties came to him (he never was allowed to go), the mystery bothered him. He was a smart kid, even at that age. Why  _ didn’t _ he have a birthday?

 

Directly asking his father went nowhere. Non-answers always followed:  _ “Because you don’t.” _ Or, with a growl Thaddeus had already learned to fear,  _ “Stop asking that, boy.” _

 

He was frustrated. Even if he didn’t have a birthday, there had to be a  _ reason _ . The kernel that would grow into a scientists’ mind couldn’t let it go. 

 

Finally, he thought to go around his father entirely and ask his brother. He didn’t fully grasp the answer until many years later. 

 

_ “Because you killed mom, idiot.” _


	2. As Seen on TV

He’s not sure how old he was when he realized his family was different. He’d always known some things, sure...like that his mom was dead, and dead means she’s gone forever and can’t come back. The language was a bit gentler, at first, but even a toddler can notice and question why most people have two parents while he only had one. 

  


No, his confusion stemmed from a subtler place. Even as a young child, he had begun to build a working understanding of the world: that his life, with his father and his brother, was nothing like he saw on the television, or the movies. 

  


And by extension, he passively assumed that that must be the  _ way _ of things--how most families worked, even. That how families act in public and how families act in private were entirely different. In public, everyone smiles and says nice things like  _ I love you. _ In private...well, it was different. He didn’t know the words except to think of it as... _ not _ nice. 

  


He came to suspect that movies and television shows were made as a kind of reassurance or escape. That sad kids with mean parents could watch TV and pretend that that’s how parents acted  _ all _ the time, not just when they were with other people. 

  


It wasn’t without basis, after all. When other people were around, his dad...his dad acted  _ nice. _ He savored those moments more than anything in his short life. When others could see, his dad would do things like smile and introduce his youngest son to his business associates by name, and they’d say nice things like,  _ “What lovely boys you have!”  _ and his dad would say things like,  _ “Yes, I am rather fortunate, aren’t I?” _

  


Sometimes, even when other people weren’t around, Thaddeus would try to act like the people in the TV. He’d try to scoot next to his his dad, and if he was feeling REALLY brave, he’d try to crawl in his lap, or scoot under his arm in a way that it would wrap around him. 

  


But it would never work. Most times, his father would just grunt and nudge Thaddeus away, roughly muttering for him to stop or to leave him alone. Other times it was sharper, meaner. He would shove Thaddeus away, and every now and then, he would raise or clinch his fist. More than a couple times, Thaddeus was afraid his father might actually hit him. 

  


Eventually, he learned to stop trying. And, after a great length of observing other families, he began to suspect that his initial hypothesis was wrong: that most families  _ aren’t _ like his. Most parents actually love their children, and television and movies aren’t made just to reassure.

  


So why did his father act the way he did?


	3. The Valentine

When he was 7, he gave his first Valentine. It took some smart thinking and a large bit of sneaking, but he felt so proud as he held his pack of  _ Groovie Goolies _ Valentine cards. His father would never allow him to buy such a frivolous thing, but that’s where the sneaking came in. He felt smart and accomplished.

  


He liked the idea of Valentines, even if he felt a little embarrassed to admit it. It seemed like such a nice idea, to let people know you like them by just handing them a card. He always felt shy, and awkward, and the other kids always seemed to have an uncanny ability to notice. He was already growing used to overhearing whispers about “that weird rich kid,” and hated it. It made him feel sad and alone and isolated; it felt like he had a cosmic sign on his back that read “please belittle” that everyone but him could see. And worst of all, he had no idea how to change any of the kids’ minds. His words seemed to fail him whenever he approached other kids, and them snickering at him even when he was  _ right there in front of them _ , trying his damnedest to connect to them, made him want to cry and never try again. 

  


But cards!  _ Cards _ . They were so solid, tangible,  _ manageable _ . He didn’t HAVE to fumble for words when he had a whole pack of cards that could express thoughts and feelings for him. The very concept of it felt like a tiny miracle. 

  


And their teacher encouraged them to give Valentines to each other, or even--much more excitingly--to pick “a Valentine.” He wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, but he thought it sounded nice. 

  


He was practically giddy when he slipped a Valentine into Tommy Miller’s backpack, asking him to be his Valentine. But that excitement died when, as they all shifted through what they’d gotten in class, Tommy cried out: 

  


“Ew, Thad gave me a Valentine! Groooss!” 

  


He felt shattered as most of the class laughed, made faces, or looked shocked. Thaddeus was left confused and horrified, and burst into tears almost immediately. Everyone else liked their Valentines--so why didn’t Tommy like his?

  


The teacher pulled him aside to calm him. She looked truly kind and concerned as she tried wiping his tears away. But Thaddeus couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. Yet her explanation left him more confused than ever.   
  
_ _

_ “Thad, honey, boys don’t like other boys. It’s...it’s not the natural way of things.” _

  


He protested. Boys don’t like other boys? That’s impossible. He liked Tommy, so the teacher  _ had _ to be wrong. Right? 

  


But the teacher wouldn’t listen to his protests. When she couldn’t make him understand, worst of all, she called his father with her concerns.

  


That night, for the first time, his father beat him. He also learned a new, horrible word that evening:  _ “fag.” _

  


He couldn’t figure out it’s exact meaning, but he did understand that his father would never, ever allow him to be one. 


	4. The Magic 8-Ball

Thaddeus clung to his magic 8-ball like a security blanket...since, in many ways, it was. His world around him felt so uncertain, so unknowable. No matter how hard he tried--and he DID try--he couldn’t seem to keep from making mistakes. And with mistakes came “lessons,” as his father called them. Sometimes they were just verbal rebukes, sometimes it was no dinner, sometimes it was bruises. 

 

Yet he could never seem to learn the lessons properly, which frustrated him to no end. His life felt like it was built on a foundation of shifting sands, forever changing and dictated solely by his father’s fickle tempers. What was an okay action one day became the reason for a busted lip the next. He always felt scared and uncertain of what might be coming. The world felt fundamentally unknowable, and frightening.

 

So, to be able to shake this ball and have answers...it was unspeakably reassuring. He knew it was a toy, sure, and the more analytical side of him kept repeating that  _ of course _ it was nothing but random chance, with no real meaning. Yet there was a younger, more innocent side of him that couldn’t give up the idea that maybe, just  _ maybe _ , magic is real. And however unlikely, it seemed like this simple little ball  _ actually  _ knew something. He couldn’t think of a time he asked it something and it was actually wrong. 

 

So, when sitting huddled in his room and trying not to make a sound, he asked it a simple question:  _ “Will I ever stop making mistakes?” _

 

He didn’t dare hope for a strong affirmative, but his gut still plummeted when the answer floated up.  _ Outlook not so good.  _

 

He felt treacherous tears welling up. He truly hated himself, he realized then. Why couldn’t he stop  _ crying? _ Starting to cry earlier was the whole reason his father back-handed him, and thus the reason he asked in the first place. 

 

Yet maybe the question was too vague. _Everyone_ makes mistakes...right? Perhaps with a different question…  
 _  
_ __  
“Will my dad ever love me?”

 

He waited with his breath held waiting for the blue die to float up and reveal itself. But the answer was even worse than the first one.  _ My sources say no.  _

 

He could barely see through his own tears. He felt gutted, but new emotions unexpectedly trickled in: resentment, then anger. What does the stupid ball know? Maybe it was just a dumb, useless toy after all. He shook it more savagely than usual when he tried again. 

 

_ “Will anyone ever love me?”  _ he asked it. 

 

He closed his eyes this time, before opening them only cautiously.  _ Better not tell you now. _

 

Sure, technically, it was neutral. Yet it was so  _ vague _ , and following the previous messages, it felt like a condemnation. Frustrated, upset, he threw the ball across the room, sending it crashing into his shelves before he descended into choking sobs. 

 

For once, he didn’t care if it caused his father to storm back in. No words or strikes could make him feel worse than the 8-ball. Even  _ that _ was mean to him. 


	5. Sid

When did he start to hate his own brother? Like so many other questions, the exact time and date was a blurred mystery. 

  


Vaguely, oh-so vaguely, he could recall times that Sid actually acted like an older brother from the television screen, especially when they were both young. Their father would yell at Thaddeus, and while Sid himself would shiver and stand back in the moment, when their father left, Sid would come in close and try to reassure Thaddeus that their dad was just mad or stressed from work. That he didn’t  _ really _ mean those things. And when their father would send Thaddeus to bed without dinner, Sid would sometimes slip back in, half of his dinner hidden in a napkin or two. 

  


And yet as the years dragged on...those instances became rarer and rarer. Thaddeus distinctly remembers an instance where their father discovered Sid was sneaking food away from the table. Sid tried to make excuses, but they were easy to see through by a man like their father. Thaddeus still remembers the cold shiver than went down his spine when he saw the hole in the wall the next day, where his father had thrown his older brother against it so hard that he literally broke the wall.

  


Sid’s sympathy toward him tapered off after that. Slowly, oh-so slowly, Sid became cold, and then mean. He began to say the same things to Thaddeus that his father did, and Thaddeus had never felt more alone.


	6. The Wizard

On the day the wizard summoned him, something deep and fundamental cracked in Thaddeus’ soul, even before that horrific wreck. 

 

He’d felt so lonely for so long. He knew that his father, and eventually his brother, would never offer him anything close to support, let alone comfort or... _ love _ , whatever that meant. His attempts to reach out to other children failed often and reliably enough that he’d already stopped trying. 

 

He had been mad at his magic 8-ball for cruel words, but it was the one thing he couldn’t stay mad at. It...could be mean, yes. But he trusted it to tell the truth, and he believed as strongly as ever that it was the one 8-ball that really, truly  _ was _ magic. In some ways, it was his only true friend. 

 

So on that night, he knew it wasn’t a true answer from the ball when Sid so snidely asked,  _ “Will Thad ever be a man?”  _  and his dad quietly chortled. Sid didn’t  _ believe _ . And you have to believe in the 8-ball for it to work. 

 

He barely had time to brood on what that question of manliness could possible even mean--he was a boy, after all, and boys grew into men. That’s what inevitably happened, no matter what. So what the hell were his dad and brother even talking about when they talked about men and manliness, like it was something Thaddeus could never achieve? 

 

When his 8-ball malfunctioned, he knew to trust it, knew it was real. And when the wizard gave him the chance to become everything he wanted...to become big, strong, powerful, to be able to stand up to others and--most importantly of all--to be good enough to be respected by his own father...he felt like maybe, just maybe, the suffering in his short life had been worth it. Superheroes come from suffering, after all, right? It made them better, stronger, more driven. He  _ deserved  _ to feel better, and be treated better. 

 

That was when the demons began to speak to him. They latched their horrible claws into his vulnerability, twisting and contorting it to their own ends. When he looked into the Eye, all the sudden all kinds of absurd hopes and dream bloomed inside him, and suddenly felt like maybe, just maybe...they could be real. 

 

He...he could be strong, respectable. His father would see it, and for the first time, he might actually smile even when others weren’t around, and say words Thaddeus was starving for:  _ I’m proud of you, son.  _

 

He could take the Eye into his hands, take it back with him, and finally,  _ finally _ ,  both his dad and his brother would see magic  _ is  _ real, and would never make fun of him for it again. He would become a hero to Earth itself, risking his life for the innocent yet it would all be worth it...people would praise him, no,  _ love  _ him. He wouldn’t be able to walk down the street without a random passerby recognizing him, and begging for his autograph. They would thank him, and tell him how they couldn’t believe their luck to meet such a big, real hero. Children would dream for the luxury of growing up to be just like him. He would go down in history as the most cherished, loved, renowned super hero, and all because he so clearly  _ deserved _ it. He wouldn’t just better than most people, he would be the literal, actual best.

 

In fact, he’d be so good that  _ of course _ he should lead the masses. He’d be the kind and benevolent leader, but his word alone would be law. Why wouldn’t it? He’d be the biggest, strongest, smartest. People would love him so profoundly and so dearly that they would borderline venerate him, placing his image in their homes just so that they could admire him from afar. He’d be the sole arbitrator of justice, smiting the unholy and leading the masses. 

 

He was ready to grab the Eye and embrace his destiny, when the wizard so sharply thwacked his knuckles, bringing him out of his runaway fantasies. 

 

He felt as if he just had cold water doused on him. His previous fantasies, so real, so... _ doable _ , rapidly disappeared into a fog, like his father had just roughly shaken him awake from an unspeakably pleasant dream. He felt foggy and confused when he looked into the wizard’s harsh, condemning face. 

 

_ “You...you will never be worthy.” _

 

Those words, spoken in a few short moments, would stay with him for decades. It was a strong breeze blowing over the house of cards that was his attempt at maintaining any kind of self-confidence or self-worth. 

 

He could deal with his father and brother’s cruelty, but mostly because he could retreat into his fantasies. His 8-ball  _ was _ magic, and magic  _ was _ real. Even if he had no real friends, he could read things like Lord of the Rings, and imagine himself rising above and becoming a wise, brilliant old man like Gandalf, who had the strength and wisdom to lead the lost. 

 

And yet standing before him was a real-life Gandalf, and Gandalf...Gandalf didn’t approve. Indeed, the indignant fire in this wizard’s eyes showed not only did he not approve, he was  _ furious _ with Thaddeus for being tempted by the Eye. 

 

And so as quickly as he was sucked into the trial of the soul, he was thrown back out. Back into his ordinary life where his father only smirked if he saw his youngest son bullied, and excruciatingly often joined in in the attempt to tear him down. 

 

He panicked immediately. He couldn’t believe he was thrown out for such a... _ normal _ , human vulnerability, especially for a child from such a dysfunctional, cruel background. He had just met a real,  _ actual _ wizard. How could the wizard be so short-sighted, so blind? Why would he cast Thaddeus out like trash, when he so clearly  _ deserved _ a power like the wizard had? 

  
Magic was his true security blanket, his one oasis from the cruelty of reality, and yet that, too, had forsaken him. The wreck after was also a hugely scarring event, to say the least. But the rejection of the wizard taught him a deeper, crueler lesson that he carried with him the rest of his life: he could trust no one, absolutely  _ no one _ , for reassurance or affirmation. If he ever wanted to be anything, he had to forcefully seize it from the hands of destiny, which seemed determined to drive him into the ground and never let him rise again. 


	7. Abled

Thaddeus always thought it sounded wrong to call his father “disabled.” Sure, he couldn’t walk. But his father was quite  _ able _ , in the worst way possible. 

 

His father didn’t do it often, but “rare” was often enough to leave an impression. If his father was especially mad, the patriarch would grab Thaddeus by the collar, throw him against a wall, and pin his son to the wall with his wheelchair, purposefully grinding in harder as the still-young boy cried apologies for whatever his latest wrongdoing was. 

 

The circumstances changed between instances, but the underlying, unspoken message stayed the same:  _ Look at what you did to me, boy. This steel cage is  _ your _ fault. You hurt me, so now I’ll hurt you even more. I have the  _ right _ to hurt you after what you did. _

 

For years, Thaddeus thought he really did deserve it. Yet, much quieter, a deeper, darker thought stirred:   


 

He really, honestly wished his dad had died that day. And Sid might be easier to deal with if  _ he _ was paralyzed, instead. 


	8. The Dog

_ “Find us.” _

 

Those two words, which had drifted to the top of his magic 8-ball, stuck with him just as much as the wizard’s had. He found his thoughts shifting, tugged and coerced by an unseen force, yet always pulling back toward that wizard’s cave. getting tugged into a new, darker direction that he wasn’t fully sure was entirely his own. Thoughts of violence, feelings of anger, a deep envy toward his brother and others...he’d felt those things before, sure, but they grew and spread, seeming to lay over him like a heavy blanket that he couldn’t shake off after the accident.

 

He sometimes felt a tug of war in his own mind, trying not to think such awful things, to the point he was feel dizzy or nauseous. 

 

For instance: Thaddeus really, truly hated the family dog. To even call it the “family” dog was a stretch, to say the least. He at first wrestled with the fact he so disliked the dog, trying to give the fuzzy little thing a chance. But he couldn’t manage it, and eventually forgot that he ever tried to like the dog in the first place. 

 

His father had brought it in in his lap as he rolled in in his chair, actually smiling for once.  _ “Sid, Thad!”  _ he had called, and soon both brothers were introduced the the small, fuzzy, golden puppy. 

 

But even though his father had made the vague gesture to at least call his name when introducing the puppy, Thaddeus knew the truth: his father had brought it home for  _ Sid _ , not him. 

 

He grew to resent the dog almost immediately. His father would smile and allow the dog to lay near him as he sat and watched TV in the evening, and Thaddeus could only watch with a jealous stare as a stupid, deplorable  _ dog _ was literally treated better than he had ever been. 

 

Unsurprisingly, though...there were still bad evenings. Sid took the dog in as his personal best friend, but on some nights, their father would still come home angry and frustrated from work. Every now and then, Thaddeus could hear the hoarse, surprised whine of the dog as his father struck it. 

 

He wasn’t proud of himself, but he found himself hoping his father would hit the dog harder and more often. If he was doing that, he would at least not feel as large of a need to tear down Thaddeus. 


	9. The Dog Dies

Thaddeus hated the dog from the beginning, and the dog was smart enough to know that. It tried to stay around Sid as much as it could--its one safe place--but that wasn’t always possible. If forced to be around Thaddeus, it would growl, but then close its eyes and go to sleep, apathetic. 

  


Yet one day, he, his father, his brother, and the stupid dog were all out at a park for lunch. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t out of charity or kindness from his father...it was to smooze some potential investors, and to show that they should invest in Sivana Enterprises not just because of their proven success, but because the CEO was just such a  _ kind _ , dedicated widower--and a paraplegic, no less!--who took care of his boys the best he could. 

  


By this time, Thaddeus didn’t bother to show anything but open, resentful apathy for his father and brother. Unfortunately, he was old enough his father could rather gracefully dismiss it to the investors as just him being at  _ that age _ , when teens didn’t want to be seen with their parents and couldn’t appreciate what hardworking parents provide. 

  


Thaddeus felt virtually sick at his stomach with his father’s act when his father and the investors really seemed to hit it off. They stepped away, and began to talk serious details about the finances about their deal. 

  


Sid was already above 18 at this point, and so, being groomed to take over Sivana Enterprises, he stood and joined the important conversation. 

  


Thaddeus was left alone with the stupid dog, and its favorite orange bouncy toy. Thaddeus squeaked the toy tauntingly, trying and hoping to get the dog excited just so he could then ignore the mutt, teaching it tiny lessons about the inevitable reality of disappointment.

  


And he did get the dog excited. It barked and jumped, wanting that faithful toy to be thrown so he could retrieve it.  

  


Thaddeus spotted something out of the corner of his eye. A large truck coming down the road, close by. He’s not sure what came over him, then, but a darker thought overtook him, and his arm seemed to act of its own accord as it threw the toy into the street, right in front of the truck. 

  


He watched in virtual slow motion. The dog chased it, running into the street. The truck blared its horn futilely, hoping the dog would move. He heard the sharp, shocking blare of the trucker’s honk continue, and then the grinding crunch of slammed brakes. 

  


The dog gave a louder, sharper whine than Thaddeus had ever heard from it, no matter how hard his dad had hit the beast in the past. And then...nothing but skidding, screeching tires. He felt like he floated away from his body as the events continued to unfold, and truly only remembers it as him observing it from above, away from any personal involvement. 

  


Sid turned and crumpled almost immediately. He fell to his knees when he saw the skid of red in the street, calling his dog’s name again, and again, and again. He descended into hysterical tears when he got closer, and found his best friend almost unrecognizable. It was the first and only time Thaddeus could remember his brother actually crying. 

  


Thaddeus watched as his father broke away from the investors, his face falling in horror as he urgently rolled his chair to the scene of it all. He looked helpless, more helpless than Thaddeus had ever seen him, as he was forced to watch from the curb as his oldest, cherished son sobbed in the street as a distraught truck driver tried to fumblingly explain that the dog just seemed to come from  _ nowhere _ , that he never had any real time to react. 

  


And then Thaddeus’ father had whipped around to him with a burning hatred, and Thaddeus felt sucked back into his body with the force of a rogue black hole. 

  


Their ride home was tense. Sid was still crying, and Thaddeus’ father glared at him through the rearview mirror with more hate and vitriol than he’d ever seen. 

  


The beating Thaddeus got that night was the worse his father had even heaped upon him. He grabbed Thaddeus by the collar, pulling him down and beating him so fiercely that Thaddeus watched his blood actually splatter across the wall in sick waves as his father punched him again, and again, and again. His vision split into dizzy, double vision and yet some small, profoundly broken part of him couldn’t bring himself to regret what he had done. 

  


For the first... and the  _ only _ time...he had heaped some of the pain his father and brother caused him back onto them. It felt empowering, in the most horrifying way possible. And he found himself longing to cause so, so much more of that pain for them. It only seemed fair. An eye for an eye...right?

  


Almost against his will, he thought again of that Eye in the wizard’s alcove. He felt its call, and that didn’t bother him as much as it used to.


End file.
